


Not yet (we've got forever)

by quixotic_cervantes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On, Fix-It of Sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:40:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27663512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quixotic_cervantes/pseuds/quixotic_cervantes
Summary: Dean knows the haunting call of "not yet" is a prayer, pleading with him to live a long happy life. But Dean Winchester dies in a barn on a Thursday.Mostly canon-compliant for the first half of 15.20
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester
Kudos: 23
Collections: SPN Finale "Destiel is CANON" Collection





	Not yet (we've got forever)

**Author's Note:**

> Clearly we've all got a lot of thoughts and feelings going on because a beloved show ended. I think they all deserved better but this is my attempt to get a few of my personal "fixes" in order. Sam may come later but I'm...less dissatisfied with his ending?

_ Not yet _

A familiar voice rang in Dean’s mind. Rough and low and commanding in a way he couldn’t ignore. He glanced over at the clock, 2am, and scrubbed a hand over his face, the other reaching for his beer bottle.

_ Why the fuck not yet _ he thought viciously. He leaned against his headboard with a heavy sigh, looking at the pile of notes and books he’d scoured through...at his handgun sitting menacingly atop them.

It hadn’t been long, mere weeks since he lost yet another child to circumstance. Sure, this one was alive- but Dean would never see him again outside happy memories in heaven. Jack was God, the final verse of the Winchester Gospels.

Mere weeks since an angel told Dean he’d always been a very misunderstood character. That it wasn’t fear or anger or hate that drove Dean...but love. 

Dean has realized, since then, that maybe that really was true. Looking back through the lens of a whiskey bottle, he could hear that it was him at the center of what made  _ this _ universe different. That it was John’s love for Dean that changed the plan. Dean’s love for Sam that led him down a path of torture...and a desire to just  _ be done _ that made him pick up the knife because there would be no absolution.

And then absolution came blazing in wearing an oversized suit and trench coat. And it would be Dean’s love for Sam that made Castiel question and rebel. Dean’s open heart and desire to save and love that would make them best friends, brothers and transform Castiel into  _ Cas _ . Cas who would sacrifice so much and everything time and again because of his love for Dean, dying one last time to 

Dean’s hand moved towards the gun, wrapping around the handle.

_ Not yet _

With a huff he set it on his nightstand, patting the newly emptied space to call Miracle. Scratching behind his ears Dean smiled, Sam had joked that Dean was really embracing the time-honored tradition of fathers refusing to have pets but ultimately loving them most. 

He reached to the nightstand again, hand brushing the whiskey bottle.

_ Not yet _

He turned off the light.

The alarm clock went off at 8am, as it always did when they were in the bunker. It was hard to call it home now, but it had all his creature comforts. 

Sam must have let Miracle out this morning, because the bed dipped while he was rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He reached out and hugged the dog. Rubbing his face into the fur and warmth, clinging the only way that gave him any comfort.

He walks into the kitchen, contented at seeing Sam cooking them a real breakfast. The toast popped up and Dean reached out

_ Not yet _

“Dean it’s hot” 

Dean grabbed anyway.

The mundanities of everyday life were, well,  _ mundane _ . Not that Dean had ever really neglected showering or brushing his teeth, but their suspicions of no longer carrying the same luck had been slowly growing. They both tripped a little more often, Dean could finally appreciate what a gas hog Baby really was, and they’d had to get extended hotspot plans as the bunker Wi-Fi failed. 

Cooking and dishes were great, though, so Dean happily took those more often than not. Sam took over laundry after Dean ironed yet another shirt with beer.

Hands deep in the soapy water Dean nicked his finger on a knife from the previous evening’s dinner. He pulled his hand out, examining the cut. He’d had far worse. He reached down to grab the knife and looked at his reflection in the metal. He’d  _ done _ far worse.

_ Not yet _

He finished cleaning the dishes, bandaged his finger, and went to find a hunt.

As he set his laptop on the table he stared at the latest additions. Castiel and Jack’s names exactly where they belong, next to the Winchesters. Dean had thought about adding others: Bobby, Charlie, Donna, Eileen, Jody, or any other of the myriad people they’ve cared about over the years. Hundreds of lives they’ve saved and been part of...even more they’ve lost.

Family don’t end in blood, but this table was the heart of the bunker, the record of the love the five of them had for each other. 

As Sam entered the room Dean focused on his laptop. They’ve got work to do.

_ Not yet! _

The information seemed benign, but decades of experience triggered the voice to cry out- definitely their kind of thing. Like an omen the voice cried out, the pie fest to sweeten the pot. 

_ Not yet! _

He focused on the pie. 

They made it to Ohio in plenty of time to grab some pie and do some interviews. Dean grabs as many pieces as will fit in the box, ignoring the more insistent call of “not yet.” 

Sam brings up Jack and Cas, that he misses them. Dean has to push down the guilt again...Cas and Jack gave everything so they could continue...so that  _ Dean _ could continue.

He does his best to shrug it off and shares the pie.

They’ve found the record in John’s hunting journal. Vampires, something they’re well equipped to handle. But Sam is uneasy when they get in the car for their stakeout. One of the endings Chuck wrote involved one last hunt with vampires.

_ NOT YET  _

That’s when Dean knows for certain. That voice isn’t just in his mind...isn’t just his constant mantra that he wasn’t worth the sacrifices it’s taken for him to be here for this hunt. That the pie and the journal and it being him and Sam alone was all part of the plan. 

He’s supposed to write his own ending now. But maybe after bucking the system for 40 years, it’s time to steer into the skid.

_ not yet _

A part of him thought maybe  _ not yet _ would become  _ not today _ . Bringing with it their best friend and one last miracle.

But it didn’t. And as he said goodbye that hope faded into desperation because he was ready, but needed Sam to hear the things they’ve only said in pieces over the years. That he loves him and is proud of him. That he has no regrets even if this isn’t quite the ending he’d hoped for no matter how adamant he’d always been of the eventuality. 

He hates leaving Sammy. Hates it. Hates knowing Sam will live with an emptiness inside him because Dean’s first and final  _ real _ choice was...rest. Sam would go on, no matter what he’d said Dean knew Sam could survive this loss and walk away from hunting. Live the life that’s been paused for 15 years...he promised after all.

A part of Dean is angry that he chose to ignore all the signs...that he ignored the voice begging him to keep living. Anger at Chuck's terrible play at literary symmetry that Dean should die being stabbed in the heart in a barn like he'd done to Cas so long ago and that it makes his guilt grow.

He was going to get a job and keep the bunker as a hunter hub. The only friend he ever planned to bury again was Miracle. He was going to watch Sam’s apple pie life from the sidelines and be filled with joy. 

But it’s time for Dean to have his own joy rather than others. And as Sam allows him to let go and he breathes his last breath he lets all the love inside him flow out. A final prayer that Sam would hear “not yet” for a long time to come.

\---

The brightness and peace fill him with relief. The smallest bit of doubt that he would be allowed into Heaven washed away in sunlight.

He has the strangest sensation that he knows this memory but doesn’t. Some nameless country road in the Midwest, the backroads of the country he’d traveled and saved his whole life. A glance to the side draws a smirk as Baby comes into view. 

Hopping in, he revels in how  _ real _ everything feels. It’s the first hint that maybe this isn’t a memory...maybe he got his final miracle after all.

Revving the engine, he stares out at the openness before him and smirks, “Country road, take me home.”

_ Not yet _

He’s startled, but flicks on the radio to drown out the voice because he’s waited long enough.

The gravel gives way to highway, gives way to gravel again. He’s not sure how long he’s been driving when he slams on the breaks. 

_ Now _

He finds it then, the side road junction and speeds down. Perfect, heavenly, traction keeping Baby sure even as rocks and dust fly. It takes him to nice country house, a small farm that looks vaguely familiar.

He gets out, walking up to the white farmhouse, some chickens running around and a dog chasing them that draws a sob from him.

“Miracle!” He kneels, wrapping his arms around the dog and swaying a bit from the force of the dog’s pounce. He laughs as the dog licks his face and basks in this comfort he hadn’t had time to miss but clearly his poor dog has been waiting for him.

“Hello, Dean.”

He freezes, the unnecessary act of breathing halting. He stands slowly, swallowing deeply because old habits die hard and he’s terrified to turn and not see what he wants. 

“Dean,” Cas is closer now, and Dean shuts his eyes tightly, “Dean, please look at me.” 

“Not yet….I...I can’t.” He gasps out around the tears that snuck up on him. The weight of all the guilt he’d carried from dying as he had, throwing away the sacrifice that had bought him that extra time. 

A sigh, and then there’s a hand on his shoulder. Left, as always, and the electricity couldn’t just be a memory. Dean’s eyes flew open to meet Cas’, both tear-filled and their smiles strained from holding them back. 

Dean moved closer and folded Cas in his arms the way they usually reserved for final moments.

This was anything but a final moment.

He sobbed out apologies, a dozen years of sins and repression and never letting them have anything near what they both deserved. 

And Cas stood there. Gently patting Dean’s back and gently shushing him, promising forgiveness until Dean stepped back.

Dean took Cas in for real, then, gone was the trench coat, the suit and backward tie that endeared Dean so much. Jeans and plaid, like a true Winchester, Cas looked...as free as Dean felt when he arrived.

Cas beckoned him to follow, leading him down a little path shaded by thick tree cover. The path opened to a lake, a dock directly before them- two chairs and a green cooler sitting beside two fishing poles. Dean allowed himself to settle in, grabbing a beer and hissing at the perfect chill.

A throat clearing brought Dean’s eyes back to Cas’. Melancholy written all over, “I wish you’d listened to my warnings, Dean.”

Dean gave something between scoff and a laugh, wondering at his friend’s audacity. “You could have come and stopped me. Or saved me. You didn’t need to leave me and Sam alone.”

Cas gave a pitying smile, “I couldn’t have helped you, Dean. Jack exploited a loophole to my deal with the Empty. He cast me down for loving a human more than God so the Empty couldn’t claim me any longer. I’m human, confined to this new heaven Jack built.”

Dean furrowed his brow, he’d kind of been hoping they weren’t going to talk about it. Not yet, anyway. “What...what do you mean Jack built? And...if you are human, how are you here?” he pauses, thinking about the warmth and the feel of Baby and the emotion, "These aren't memories are they?"

Cas beamed, “No, Dean. Jack ushered in Paradise. Perhaps not on Earth, but, you can see anyone you wish. Go anywhere you wish. Think of it like a...second life, but totally free from needs or constraints.”

Dean hadn’t wondered why he hadn’t encountered anyone else. In his original heaven there had only been memories and Sammy and he didn’t want to see him for a long time. “So...everyone is, free? Just living their lives the same...or maybe that they maybe never got?” 

His voice started breaking at the end. The opportunities were endless. 

Cas smiled gently, “Yes, Jack consulted me and I thought this would...suit you best.”

Dean startled, “Me?”

Affection and exasperation warred on Cas’s face, Dean never thought he’d get to vex Cas so completely again. “Of course, Dean. Jack is your son, and he wanted to ensure your final rest was perfect.” 

Cas was clearly fighting the next words that wanted to come out. 

Dean knew the question. “And you?”

Cas’ eyes closed, “And I wanted to prepare a home for you. Here, in a heaven you deserve. A heaven that reflects how loved you are and how many have been loved by you. A heaven that will give you every chance life never did.” 

Cas stood and made a vague gesture across the lake, “Your parents live there, Bobby and the Harvelles near them, Ash and Pamela were still squatting but finally settled nearby.” 

A gesture to the left, “That way is a hunter town. So many lonely souls, we decided to guide them together.” 

Dean waited a minute, hour? “And here?” 

Cas looked at him, “Your own slice of paradise, if you so choose.”

Choice. Choices have led him so astray. “What about you? What about- about Sam?”

Cas shifted, avoiding eye contact as he rushed through a mumbled response, “I’ve been staying here to ensure it was ready- you didn’t leave me near the time I’d hoped for- and Miracle needed looking after. There’s space for Sam, when he arrives. I...hadn’t thought beyond my preparations.”

Dean smiled, finishing his beer and setting the bottle down. Standing, he gave Cas a quick hug before stepping back.

“Cas...I know there’s a lot I still need to say to you. A lot to clear up between us. But I think...I think right now I just need to...continue? I just can’t...Not yet.”

Cas smiled, “I’ll just wait here then?”

Dean laughed, put a hand on Cas’ shoulder like he had all those years ago. The expressions were the same. The emotions were the same. But at least now Dean knew and had a name for it. Knew that they had time. “Never change, Cas.” 

He drove away from his piece of Paradise, glancing in the rearview to see Cas throwing a ball for Miracle and seeing some beehives he hadn’t noticed driving in. That’s when he recognized the farm; it was Cain’s. Where Cain had gone for his peace after he stopped because his love asked him to. 

_ Fitting...but not perfect. Not yet. _

So Dean continued driving, the sky on the verge of sunset he came across a bridge. A bridge that felt like everything the way the farm had. 

He stopped, leaving Baby’s door open because he knew he wouldn’t be here long. Leaning against the metal he took in the echo of the world they had saved. A ripple in the air, striking directly to his core, filling the final space. 

“Hiya Sammy.”

They stood together hugging, two brothers, soulmates, reunited as the sun threatened to go down but never really would- not if they didn’t want it to.

Stepping back, Dean gave him a smile “Heaven’s been waiting for you. Let’s go home.” 


End file.
